Paper Hearts
by kawaiichiisaikitsune
Summary: [Chp.2 up][AU] Atobe, rich as always, has a father that owns the wealthiest clinic. Any guesses who he stumbles upon the random day he is there? Coincidence, or the inevitable?[AtobeJiroh]
1. Young At Heart

**P**aper **H**earts **O**nly **N**eed **A** **P**air **O**f **P**aper **W**ings **T**o **F**ly 

**Author: **Dana-chaaaan.  
**Information: **Anime - Tennis no Oujisama - AtobeJiroh  
**Disclaimer: **I'm not doing another disclaimer, so you know, so recognize that I do not own these songs or these characters, or this anime, or anything else for that matter. Except this story, I own that.Uhmmm. Nothing really. I just felt like writing a story, and I've always loved the title "Paper Heart", so... Here is my lovely AU. Hopefully it's good. :D

**Story Summary: **Alternate Universe. Atobe's rich (of course), and his father owns the most popular clinic and sister/brother clinics in the area while his mother is always away on trips, personally designing the look for famous people. He, incidentally of course, runs into a boy named Jiroh in the hospital. Fancy meeting him there...

**Chapter Summary...**

Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you if you're young at heart  
For it's hard you will find to be narrow of mind if you're young at heart  
You can go to extremes with impossible schemes  
You can laugh when your dreams fall apart at the seams  
And life gets more exciting with each passing day  
And love is either in your heart or on the way  
Don't you know that it's worth every treasure on earth to be young at heart  
For as rich as you are it's much better by far to be young at heart  
And if you should survive to a hundred and five  
Look at all you'll derive out of being alive  
And here is the best part, you have a head start  
If you are among the very young at heart.

"Young At Heart", Young At Heart

**ChapterOne...**  
Young At Heart 

Sighing for what had to be the hundredth time today, Atobe straightened his posture in the chair placed in his father's office, waiting ever so patiently for said man. He had told his son he simply had to a check up around the hospital and that he'd be back in a few minutes to meet with Atobe. That was thirty minutes ago and Atobe Keigo was not pleased in the least.

First off, it was his father that had asked him to come today, so why was he the one waiting? Secondly, his father hated doing these "check up" things, so why would he waste time to be with his son to do something he loathed? Thirdly, no matter the person, it was down right rude to disregard Keigo in that fashion. He did not care if it was his father who was commanding him to wait in this room, he was unsatisfied.

Standing from the comfortable, leather chair, he pondered upon why his father had to be here every single day. Just because he owned the place didn't mean he had to _live_ in the place. Honestly, it was a Saturday, a day when most people would be at home with their family. But, no, his father insisted to be at work, requesting that Keigo come at precisely 12 o'clock to have a dicussion.

Father dear, the clock has chimed 12:43.

The younger Atobe walked around the large, cherry-furnished desk to pass over the door's threshold. Disregarding whatever his father's request was, he moved down the hallways, ignoring the questioning looks he received from the workers. They knew, of course, who exactly he was. They knew he was _the_ Atobe Keigo, son of the owner of this building and of the famous designer in whatever country she was in at the moment. Sometimes, it was brutal being known everywhere you went.

Dressed in fine, black trousers, a dark blue button-up shirt, and an expensive suit top, he walked with dignity and power, smile claiming his authority and eyes challenging one and all. Keeping that same look, as to not get anyone to come up to him and speak, Atobe shoved his perfectly moisterized hands in his pant pockets and swaggered down the hallways.

Like any other clinic, on the higher few floors there were plenty of sick people in white, glassed-in rooms, sleeping in what could be claimed as peaceful ignorance. Many elderly humans were lying in beds, or sitting in beds, or roaming the floor in their wheelchairs and whatnot. Keigo silently scrutinized these seniors with uncaring eyes before taking another turn and going about his way to the elevator. If his father was going to be late, he'd show the older man just how Keigo would take it.

He still had homework to do, as he had to keep the position of top student in his class. To do so, he had to be sure to complete all his required assignments on time, if not earlier and make sure they were one hundred percent accurate. Or, at least, amazingly close.

Deciding to spite his father even further, he choose to go home, complete his homework excrutiatingly slow, and come back to the clinic with take-out in his hands. Yes, even though he disliked the foul after-taste he received from fast food, he'd do it. Dear ol' daddy-kins wouldn't be abandoning him any time soon.

Finally, the elevator doors opened and a boy with messy, orange-tinted hair rushed out of the open doors, a few items held in his hands. Keigo made sure to get a good look at this kid while he passed by, curiousity piqued. The boy had glassy eyes, although he missed the color, like he was constantly yawning, and almost child-like features. The boy's hair was brushed, it appeared, but still slightly untamed. His clothing was regular, albeit better than most. His pants were snug jeans while his shirt was pushing it's way out from the bottom under his black jacket rolled to quarter sleeves.

He looked about Keigo's age.

Not letting this odd occurrence get in his way, he walked into the elevator, pressing the button that would take him to the main floor, and watching absently as the doors slid shut. Being the only one in the elevator, Atobe leaned against the side wall, arms folded over his chest and eyes closed in consideration. Surely, his father wasn't doing just check-ups on the building. He had to be up to something. Completely washing his mind from the boy he just observed in a few seconds moments ago, Keigo concentrated on his father's actions as of late.

Brushing off whoever may have decided to speak to him, he left the elevator once the doors opened, walked through groups of people and out the front doors. He wasn't staying here any longer than he had to.

II

It wasn't until a few hours later that Atobe Keigo leisurely walked back into the hospital. He had a white bag with take-out in his right hand, the other shoved in his pocket. He strutted through the main doors and straight to the elevator, avoiding the fact that many people were watching his entrance. With a proud look, he waited for the elevators to open and stepped inside, pressing down the button to take him to the floor his father's office was on.

Studying the enclosed area he was in, he crossed his arms over his chest, white bag dangling from his wrist. Soon enough, the doors opened and he stepped out casually, eyes scanning the rooms around him before walking further away from the elevator. As he started walking down the hall, something seemed to have attracted his attention. Looking into a room, he saw a boy about his age, one that looked oddly familiar, sitting on a wooden chair by a white bed. The white bed was perfectly tidy with no one laying under the covers like Keigo had pressumed. The boy was leaning forward, arms folded on the edge of the neatly made bed, chin and lips mostly hidden from the arms.

Shocked that he was actually curious, the lavender-haired boy walked over to the threshold, keeping his arms crossed arrogantly and leaning on the length of the door frame. "Are you sleeping?" he asked suddenly, noticing the slight jolt the other gave at being spoken to.

Without looking back to see who was addressing him, he answered in a gruff tone, "No."

"Well then, why are you laying there?" the other responded with a question, perking a delicate eyebrow at the impolite reply he had been given. Shaking off the rudeness, he continued to interrogate this boy, "Why are you visiting an empty bed?"

"I was visiting my grandfather," the tone was detached.

"Not anymore, apparently." Ignoring the wince he saw, Atobe observed as the boy straightened his posture and continued to stare at the clean bed.

"What do you want anyways?" Eyes narrowed, even though it was unseen; the gestured was an assumtion of Keigo's from the tone of voice.

"I saw you on my way out," pushing himself away from the wall, he shrugged, "That was hours ago. Have you left at all?"

The boy shuffled his legs over the side of the chair and rotated his body, head turning to finally meet the other speaking to him. His eyes, like the first time Keigo saw him, were glassy. The boy twisted his body in a seemingly uncomfortably position, resting his arms on the back of the chair and placing his chin on the arms, eyes boring into the other's.

"No, I haven't." A curt response.

"Was your grandfather here when you first came here?" That appeared as though it struck a chord through the other's body. Appearingly red eyes adverted and stared bitterly at the tiled floor.

"No, he wasn't."

"And you stayed here?"

Those blank eyes that Keigo wanted to hate so very much seeked out his own, "Yes. I... Anyways, why are you talking to me?" Strangely enough, the emotion that flickered through the other's sense of sight was not residual bitterness, but sheer curiousity.

Unfolding his arms, he lifted his right wrist slightly, gesturing to the white bag, "I bought take-out. The problem is, though, that I don't like take-out." With a smirk, he walked closer to the boy and motioned to the white bed. "May I sit here?"

The seated male opened his mouth to speak, yet no sound immediately came out, "...sure." He offered a small, thankful gaze to Keigo, before rotating himself once again to face the boy sitting on the edge of the bed.

Atobe elegantly put the bag on the bed, separating the flaps and pulling out the white boxes within. He placed them on the bed as well, popping them open for the other boy to choose what he wanted. Allowing the boy a small smile, Atobe tilted his head slightly, "Sit on the bed with me." He turned his positioning and sat on his bottom, one leg bent, knee poiting to the side, half in front of him and half underneath him, while the other bent upward, knee pointing to the ceiling.

Happy to oblige, Keigo noted, the other climbed onto the bed and sat Indian-style near the head of the bed. "Looks good, what is it?"

"Honestly, I don't know. Have whatever you want," Keigo chuckled a little before pulling out some plastic utensils and handing them to the boy. This meal was meant to spite his father, but he could care less at the moment. "By the way, what's your name?"

The orange-head looked up from the boxes, "Oh. I'm Akutagawa Jiroh, and you are?" His eyes sparkled with raw emotions, although Keigo wasn't sure what to name each one specifically.

"Atobe Keigo. It's a pleasure to meet you, Akutagawa," he gave another polite smile, excusing the small blush that accompanied Jiroh's cheeks at the kindness.

"Pleasure's all mine," Akutagawa said with a grin before picking up one of the take-out boxes and preparing to eat to his heart contents. "Thanks again, for the food," he said with scarce embarrassment before digging into his meal.

"You're perfectly welcome," the owner's son announced, smiling at the other boy's actions, despite him being unwilling to do so.

Throughout the meal, the two rarely spoke. Jiroh ate and Atobe relaxed, both seated in a comfortable silence, even though the other was unknown to them. It was a strange ocurrence, but almost definitely not a bad one.

Eventually, Jiroh was finished with his meal, having eaten the majority of three boxes Atobe brought. He realized what he had done and looked up sheepishly at his new friend. Or, who he assumed to be his new friend, "Sorry I ate all your food," he gave a nervous laugh, scratching the left side of his jawline.

Reassuringly, Keigo gave the other a charming smile, "It's alright. I intended it to be for you."

He laughed full heartedly, feeling relieved from the odd restrictions that had been coursing through his body the last few hours. "Thank you so much." Seconds after, his face fell and his eyes looked more panicked, "Atobe, what time is it?"

Keigo pushed his arm out of his sleeve and read the exquisite watch settled on his wrist. "It's a little past six o'clock, why?" He watched, amused, as the other's eyes grew wide before the orange-haired boy quickly stood from his seat.

"I was supposed to be home by now. And, I have to tell my family about...grandpa. And, I just... I have to go," he gave an apologetic look, "I'm sorry. Thank you for everything, but I really need to get home."

Atobe, bemused, raised a thin eyebrow and the edges of his lips twirked upward, "Of course, you go on home." He slightly ushered the other out, standing as well and closing the white boxes and putting them in the bag.

Jiroh flashed a big grin before sprinting to the door and putting a hand on the frame to twirl him around to turn. Quickly, he stopped his movement and looked at the other, "Hey, Atobe, we're friends, right?"

Keigo inwardly narrowed his eyes at the term, "Friends?" Outwardly, he shrugged with a hesitant smirk, "Sure, why not?"

"Okay then, bye!" And with that, he was gone.

"Even though I'll probably never see you again, Akutagawa," but he was speaking to an empty space.

What a strange boy, he thought, cleaning the room from its inhabitants and exiting, heading toward his father's office that he should've been in quite a while ago. Sighing, he wondered what exactly his father wished to speak to him about. Surely it wasn't too important, as his father had avoided him for three-fourths of an hour; however, he would be the polite one and discuss this professionally.

Keigo sighed, it was just another mediocre day.

**Endofchapter.**

**Last words... **Please, give me constructive advice, or tips or anything of that sort. Please, though, do not claim that these characters or this story was and/or horrible, completely wrong, or incorrect. First off, this is my story, I'm sorry to say, but I will take it as I please, and it's very disrespectful of you to simply insult it just because you didn't enjoy it. I apologize that you did not like it, but honestly, that's not my problem. Secondly, these characters, although very important, do not really get that much screen play. Or, I have not seen it. Jiroh, for this story, is going to be slightly serious, like I have seen him in the anime. Yet, he will still have his playfulness and active nature. And, Atobe, while being slightly cocky and prideful, he is still aware of manners and is not without emotions. I understand he has a huge ego, but half of that is from being NUMBER ONE at tennis and at school. So, take away tennis, and his ego isn't so incredibly high. Please, I just request that you do not insult me or my stories unless you have any true data to go against me. 

Tell me if my sentence structure is incorrect, or my word-use is uninteresting, or my grammar needs to be tweeked. Do not tell me this pairing is wrong, this story is dumb, or these characters are "OOC". This may be over the internet, but I do request to have respectful reviews, if I am to receive some. Thank you very much for reading this author's note. And for reading this story, regardless of whether or not you liked it.

**Hinty pinty... **I will tell you right now, I have seven songs planned to be the chapter summary for the six chapters and an epilogue. Some of them are easy to comprehend and to understand the full meaning I am getting behind it. Some, however, are hard to signify why it was used for the chapter summary. If you wish to know the reason as to why I chose the songs I decided upon, simply PM me or tell me in a review, or anything. I'll respond as quickly as possible. Thank you for understanding. 

**Next, I have in store... **"Watch What Happens", The Umbrellas of Cherbourg


	2. Watch What Happens

**Title: **Paper Hearts Only Need A Pair Of Paper Wings To Fly  
**Author: **Dana-chaaaan.  
**Information: **Anime - Tennis no Oujisama - AtobeJiroh

**Author's Note: **Haha. Another chapter! Weee!

**Story Summary: **Alternate Universe. Atobe's rich (of course), and his father owns the most popular clinic and sister/brother clinics in the area while his mother is always away on trips, personally designing the look for famous people. He, incidentally of course, runs into a boy named Jiroh in the hospital. Fancy meeting him there...  
**Chapter Summary:  
**Cold, no I can't believe your heart is cold  
Maybe slow to warm from a long, lonely night  
Let someone start believing in you  
Let him hold out his hand, let him touch you and watch what happens  
One someone who can look in your eyes  
And see into your heart, let him find you and watch what happens.  
Cold, no I won't believe your heart is cold.  
Maybe just afraid to be broken again.  
Let someone with a deep love to give  
Give that deep love to you and what magic you'll see  
Let someone give his heart, someone who cares like me

**.StartofChapterTwo  
**Watch What Happens

It had been a few days from his encounter with Akutagawa Jiroh. That had happened Saturday of last week, and it was now Wednesday of the following week. Atobe, that fateful day, was only supposed to be meeting his father to go over certain things that had happened with their family and with his school. It was rather unimportant, Keigo thought.

Today, however, he was asked by his father to go deliver a package and message to the only sports shop in the city. Or, at least, the only good one. It was quite a spacy store, probably a third of an acre. Inside were many items, such as equipment, supplies, instruction books, or just about anything to do with sports. It was a combination sports store for all the main sports played in the area, such as basketball, soccer, tennis, and baseball.

Keigo's father was good friends with the owner and helped this person when need be through certain areas. A few times before, his father had sent out a loan to the owner, or other minute things like that. It was a rather bothersome friendship the two had, as Keigo was normally fulfilling these errands for his father, as he didn't trust the servants with something like this.

Sighing, he continued his walk toward the store. It wasn't too far away, and although he was offered a ride, he decided it was a pleasant day and chose to walk. Besides, after a while, everything involving his father just got a little too troublesome.

Keeping a jacket curled around his body, as it was the season of autumn, he walked rhythmically before setting eyes on the store. Glad to finally see it in the distance, he gripped the package in his hands a scarce amount tighter, awaiting the moment he could just leave the store and go back to his plans for the day. He had things to accomplish that did not involve his father.

Leading his walk with his upper chest, nose slightly more in the air than a normal human being's, he entered the store. Seeing as it was just barely after school had let out, not many people were crowding the store. However, Keigo paid no attention to these details and walked around the mazes of the aisles to head to the front desk, where he knew the owner would be present.

"Damn," he heard someone curse and his eyes adverted to a group of teenagers at the register, their items on the counter as they fetched their money. The voice sounded oddly familiar, although Keigo decided to discard this sudden thought. Walking closer to the counter; however, he recognized a certain orange-tinted hair atop a head. "I'm short 148 yen."

"You dragged us all the way here to buy this, and then you don't even have enough money?" a boy with red hair with a slight pink hue spoke with a sigh. Smirking at the scene, Keigo hefted the box under one of his arms and reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He fingered through the flaps and pulled out a random coin.

"Akutagawa," he stated in acknowledgement, earning the entire group's attention. He mentally quirked an eyebrow at how the other's face seemed to brighten up. Maybe he was hallucinating? But, that was horribly incorrect, Atobe Keigo was not one to hallucinate.

"Atobe? What are you doing here?" he stepped through the crowd of friends, coming to stand in front of the other.

"Dropping something off," the wealthy son announced with nonchalance. "Here," he tossed the coin to the boy, who luckily had caught it just in time. Eyes widening slightly at realizingly it to be a 500 yen piece.

"Are you sure it's fine?"

Before the lavender-haired male could reply, a boy with glasses and blue hair stepped forward, "Of course it's fine. That's Atobe Keigo," he said as though it was perfectly obvious as to why he'd give away 500 yen. "He's rich."

"Oh," Jiroh looked painfully confused, but brushed it off with a thankful statement to Keigo. He went back to the counter and gave the coin to the owner, receiving the change. Keigo tuned out whatever words the others were saying to their friend, noting how the orange-head wasn't very active and happy like that one day at the clinic. He wasn't smiling as brightly, and his eyes weren't twinkling as much, but they still looked as glassy as ever. It was...odd, to say the least.

Of course, the death of a loved one took time to sink in. To _actually_ sink it.

"I should give this back to you," he found Jiroh saying to him, holding out the change he had received from the man. His friends seemed to disagree with his actions, saying the other was already blatantly rich, a few hundred yen wouldn't make any difference. He offered a small smirk to his unknown friend.

"Keep it," he said nothing else to the orange-head, just walked forward to the owner and placed the package on the counter. His eyes narrowed in a way that was barely noticeable, tone offhanded, "Father said whatever information you needed was inside and that all you need to do is call him if there is trouble."

"Ah," the owner stated with recognition, picking up the box and putting it on the other side of the counter. His tone dropped to a whisper, but Jiroh could heard a few choice words, as he was closer than his friends, and his hearing was strained. "Do you think it was wise to give that boy that money? Your father might disapprove."

The orange-head inwardly winced a little, "Father wasted my Saturday, I'll waste his money," Keigo replied without lowering the volume of his voice. He knew this was only one reason as to why he tossed that coin to Jiroh, but it was the most reasonable to this store owner. And, Keigo just didn't care about this middle-aged man.

"Jiroh! You coming?" the customer turned to look as friends who were a few meters away from him, all looking back at him, waiting for him to start walking.

He plastered on a smile, "Actually, you guys, I'll see you later." He watched as his friends shared a few brief comments before turning in the other direction and leaving the shop. Smile dropping off his face, he faced the son of the clinic owner. "Atobe?"

The addressed male looked up and down the owner, making the victim of his gaze very uncomfortable, before reversing his direction and looking straight at the other boy, "Yes, Akutagawa?"

"Thanks, really," his tone was edged with a feeble tint of pleading.

Knowing he would probably regret his choice later, Atobe suggested, "Would you like to accompany me today?"

**II**

It was different, Jiroh realized, being around the town with someone you barely knew, yet others did very well. Walking with the other, he noted Keigo received plenty of stares and strange looks. He didn't try to read into the expressions, but relished in the oddness of being out with someone who was quite well known. And yet, as put off as Jiroh would've thought he'd be, he was actually hoping to get to know the other even better.

Life was just spiralling for him, wasn't it?

"Akutagawa." Being addressing, he broke from his subconscious thoughts and looked to the other, not having realized he had followed the other blindly. Strange. That's what this whole outcome was. Just strange.

"Akutagawa, is this alright?" he looked around, noticing their were in a park. It was nothing grand or elegant, which befundled him as to why Keigo would bring him here if he was so rich and suave.

"Yes, it's great," he replied in seconds, tone lacking delightful glee. Not knowing, or really caring, if Keigo followed him, he neared the swings, planning on sitting comfortably on the wooden seat. After sitting down and starting to pump his legs to get a small swing going, he saw Keigo sitting on his own swing although the other wasn't moving himself forward and backward.

"Akutagawa, has it sunk it?" the peculiar question was asked after a few minutes of the silence disrupted from the squeaks of the swing set.

The orange-head stopped his leg motions, looking at the speaker out of the corner of his eyes, "Has what sunk in?"

"Your grandfather's death," Atobe deadpanned.

Whatever movement Jiroh had been doing came to an abrupt stop, eyes remotely wider and staring off in the distance. Eventually, after a few, long moments, he stopped his movement on the swing completely. "Yes." He faced the other, twisting his upper body, "But, it's alright," as if to prove it, he drew a smile over his lips.

"You're a horrible liar," the other replied in a monotone, not even bothering to look in Jiroh's direction.

The smile fell quickly. "What else am I to do?" His feet kicked the ground beneath him, hands gripping the chains and eyes staring intensely at his lap. His tone changed from defeat to scarce self-loathing, "I told my family, they didn't really seem to care. My dad felt bad about the loss, but it wasn't his father so he didn't really care. My mom pretended to never hear 'such horrible news'. And my siblings were never really close to him, so they could care less," his grip tightened, "I was probably the closest relative to him, seeing as his wife died a few years ago. He was my favorite grandpa, and I was his favorite grandson. I liked him more than my own parents, and I told him everything. Ever since I was young, he was basically my ideal dad. I loved him. But, then he just vanished.

"I was told he went to the hospital, although no one ever told me why. I wasn't allowed to go into his room without my dad or mom, or something like that, so for a few months I wasn't able to see him at all. Then, one day, they actually just let me in the room and I see a perfectly clean bed, even though the room number was right and everything. He just vanished. It wasn't like he died, it was more like he just disappeared from sight. Because he wasn't in that bed, I didn't really see him as dead, I see him as invisible, or something like that.

"I stayed in the room because maybe he might've showed up soon. Maybe he'd walk in, see me, and we'd walk home together. But, he never came by, and then you just came in, and for a while I forgot the disappearance of my grandpa. But, then, I went home, explained to my family and eventually, in a few days, I realized... He's actually dead. Completely and utterly dead. And he's never coming back. I'll never be able to see him or hear him, or anything like that.

"He's gone for good," his hands released their hold on the chains and fell to his lap, eyes looking void of any particular emotion. Suddenly, his head snapped toward the other person, eyes begin forgiveness, "I'm so sorry, I've been rambling. You probably didn't want to hear all that."

A small twitch of the lips brought a smile upon Keigo's face, "No, I'm glad you said this all to me. But, I don't know what to tell you. I've never had a loved one die before, I wouldn't be able to give you any advice on the subject." The wealthier boy stood from his seat and walked to stand in front of the now slouched boy, elbows on thighs and head hidden in hands. Keigo pulled the boy's hands away from the other's face, inwardly surprised at how easy it was to lower himself to Jiroh. Satisfied that he now had eye contact with Akutagawa, he spoke in a soft voice, "I apologize," at the scandalized look he received, he continued, "I apologize that I cannot help you any further."

Freeing his hands from Atobe's hold, Jiroh shifted his eyes in another direction and gave a faltering smile, "It's fine. It's my problem anyways, I shouldn't have dragged you into it at all."

He placed a delicate finger under the other's chin, earning those red-tinted eyes to stare with a puzzled expression. "Akutagawa, are we friends?"

Uncertain eyes bored into his own, mouth opened barely, but no sound emitting. Atobe watched the other boy carefully, closely, making sure not to miss any certain emotion flicker through those red-saturated eyes. "Yes, we are," he concluded, although it sounded more like a squeaky return than a confident reply.

Keigo put a hand on the boy's head, palm unmoving but fingers gently brushing through his hair, "Then, I will help you however I can." He peered into those clear eyes and realized just how glassy and teary they looked up close. Keigo felt as though the boy might suddenly start crying on him, but he knew that wasn't the case in this scenario. However, he was rather shocked to feel lithe arms wrap around his own waist, a head pressed firmly into his chest.

"Thank you," he didn't so much as hear the voice, yet felt the puffs of air soak through is clothes and warm the section the boy's mouth was at.

Keigo sighed practically inaudibly, his fingers continued to weave through his orange-tinted strands, one edge of his lips curling upward. "You're welcome."

**Endofchapter.**

**Author's Note: **Ughh. Was that bad? I hope not... But, thanks for reading anyways! I hope to read your wonderous reviews!

**CHAPTER TEASER: **"It's Only A Paper Moon", the Musical Production **The Great Magoo**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Paper Hearts Only Need A Pair Of Paper Wings To Fly  
**Author: **Dana-chaaaan.  
**Information: **Anime - Tennis no Oujisama - AtobeJiroh

**Author's Note:** dun have one

**Story Summary: **Alternate Universe. Atobe's rich (of course), and his father owns the most popular clinic and sister/brother clinics in the area while his mother is always away on trips, personally designing the look for famous people. He, incidentally of course, runs into a boy named Jiroh in the hospital. Fancy meeting him there...

**Chapter Summary:  
**Say, it's only a paper moon, sailing over a cardboard sea  
But it wouldn't be make believe if you believed in me  
es, it's only a canvas sky ahnging over a muslin tree  
But it wouldn't be make believe, if you believe in me  
Without your love it's a honky tonk parade  
Without your love it's a melody played in a penny arcade  
It's a Barnum and Bailey world, just as phony as it can be  
But it wouldn't be make believe if you believed in me.

**.StartofChapterThree  
**It's Only A Paper Moon

That boy was a bundle of trouble, Keigo kept telling himself. He never should have gotten any where near the kid, but now that he did, he was in deeper than he expected. At first, it was just a simple kind gesture, the way he always charmed the girls, nothing more. Then, Akutagawa just had to pull the "friend" word on him, and normally Atobe would've just lied and hoped to never see the male again. This time, however, he said _that_ word with small meaning. He didn't mean it completely -- of course not! -- but he did mean in to an extent. And, that was not how it was supposed to be.

He was supposed to keep his aloof, uncaring outward appearance and only have people swooning over him. He was to have the respect, the power, the fame and fortune. All of that was to be his, he was supposed to be the person that was right by someone's side, yet never there. Keigo was never supposed to actually lower himself to someone else's eyesight, he was better than that. But, of course, this Akutagawa Jiroh struck a strange cord in him that had him doing unusual things.

Atobe Keigo was the prideful, intelligent, wealthy, and charismatic type of person, one of very few. He was to be someone large in the future, someone big and important, and his father had always told him of this future. Always told him what to do and what not to do. Told him to behave with manners and only throw snide remarks to those who were less then scum, so as to not ruin his image. He was told to keep his nose to the sky, eyes looking down on everyone and lips rarely curled into a true smile. Always were his smiles to be charming for the people he was trying to please, not because of his own joy. No, his father taught him the well-mannered, pompous way to be an accomplished Atobe.

Screw his father, for once Keigo thought.

This was his life, and he was going to live it as he pleased. Sure, he understood he was better than the poor and closer to perfection than many of the people out there (or such things were drilled into his head), but he was going to throw it out the window. Just for now.

Simply and plainly, he realized today in the park that Jiroh was anything but ordinary. He knew nothing of Keigo's status, nothing of the boy's background, nothing of Keigo at all really, yet he felt so compelled to leave his friends to accompany him. It was unnerving, at any rate, but somehow comforting. In that strange, unexplainable way, Jiroh had somehow caught Keigo's attention and held it on him for more than a few minutes, which was abnormal. And today, he had told the other he would help to any extent he could offer. Never before in his life had he done that.

Akutagawa Jiroh was going to be the death of him. He was sure of it.

Therefore, he had choose to ponder the previous day's events. He was seated out in his luxurious living room, bottom resting comfortably on expensive leather as the couch sank beneath his weight. In his hands was a cup of herbal tea, steam mixing with the freshened air in the room. He sipped cautiously at the drink, relaxing in the silence of the house. All the lights were out, and the starry sky provided no light for the room closed off by walls, yet the silence of the house let Atobe faintly hear the soothing sounds of the night.

His eyes glanced lazily to the clock, reading it to be a little past one in the morning. Atobe softly blew over the visible air rising from the cup before taking another sip. It wasn't that he couldn't sleep, because he could; it was more that pondering in the night was always more attractive than doing such in the daytime. Even though he would never utter a word of such truths, he preferred the time the moon was in the sky, rather than the sun being there. It always helped him relaxed from the day he had gone through.

Plus, with Jiroh, it was nice to be calmed down.

Never before had he had a friend, or a person he considered a friend. Many times before he had people uselessly call him their friend, buddy, or whatever other term that was out there. Except, every time, Keigo never felt the slightest bit drawn to them to even care about reciprocating the friendship. It was never a mutual effort, and so eventually the ties were severed, and he'd just charm himself into another's life. However, with this orange-head it was quite different.

Maybe it was because the boy had lost his favorite relative and he simply had overwhelming pity for him. But, Atobe knew thath that wasn't the truth. He actually admitted to himself on his walk home that he hated how close to tears the boy looked nearly all the time. He disliked how he saw the boy fake numerous smiles around his friends, and that he could tell what was Jiroh's real smile opposed to his false one. He also hated how it was so easy to let the other wrap his arms around Keigo's waist and stay like that, neither moving out of the comforting embrace. Plus, he rather detested that he was able to admit to the fact that he was minutely infatuated with the boy. It was nothing huge or extravagant, he was just too interesting to pass up, and Keigo wasn't going to.

**II**

"Atobe, has anything really bad ever happened to you?" Jiroh asked one day while they were seated inside a shop. It was, on the one hand, an ice cream parlor that Jiroh had managed to drag Keigo into, but it also served other things such as cakes and snacks or vitamin drinks and coffee. Keigo had found, after Jiroh ordered the most chocolate-filled, rich and creamy, deluxed ice cream combination on the menu, that the boy was really such a kid sometimes. He himself had ordered coffee, just like he liked it; black.

There had been a few of these meetings, as Jiroh now had Keigo's phone number and vise versa. Normally the orange-head was the one to call and ask to meet Atobe somewhere, in which Atobe obliged, because, if he were to be painstakingly honest, he liked these weird confrontations with Jiroh.

"Well, actually, not really. My mother's also in some country, so I don't see her too often, but that's nothing horribly wrong." Atobe sipped at his drink gracefully, eyes peering over the cup in his hands to watch the other boy. Each and every question was vital, for Jiroh really only invited Atobe out-out when he was thinking too hard about something.

Really, this friend business had gone too far.

"And your dad's pretty strict or whatever, so you don't really get along with him, right?" The violet-haired male tilted his head slightly with a tug of the shoulders, his own way of gesturing the statement was more or less correct. "And you don't have any siblings?"

"None."

"But you're rich," he talked around the spoon in his mouth, savoring the chocolatey goodness.

Appalled by the lack of manners and how he could actually understand the boy, he inwardly twitched, "Yes, of course."

"Nobody close to you has ever died, or gotten a bad injury or a horrible disease?"

Atobe shook his head, "Nothing remotely bad has happened to my family. Or, if it has, I have either been left out of this information or simply did not react." For a minute, there was silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, but the last word to describe it was easy. Both relished themselves in their order, stealing glances to the other every now and again. "I do remember, though, this one time, a long time ago. It never happened again, but I was young and foolish," his eyes took on a distanced look, like he was reliving through the memory.

"What happened?"

"My mother and father got into a fight. I was about seven years old or so, just looked into the room because of their harsh voices. My parents never yelled when they fought, only venom-dripping words. Then, I can't remember what my father said, but it seemed to provoke my mother and she suddenly slapped him." Atobe, eyes closed, had the cup suspended just below his mouth, "She apologized afterward and whatnot, and it never happened again. Just a fluke, I suppose."

"Oh," Jiroh blinked, obviously hoping there was more to the story, "Well, I guess it's good they didn't turn out to have an abusive relationship. But, nothing has happened?" Keigo shook his head, eyes opened now. "Geez, how boring," at the exasperated tone, Atobe cuoldn't help but show an amused smile, placing his coffee mug on the table.

"You want me to have horrible demons from the past?" He eyes were calculating, but his tone presented his amusement.

Jiroh laughed happily, "It'd interest me more if you did. But, since you have to be boring..." His thought process trailed on, smile overwhelming his face. "Hey, Atobe," he scooped his spoon into his dessert. Keigo watched as the creamy chocolate ice cream formed on the spoon, chocolate syrup reigning over the piece with black specs from cookie crums in the spoonful. It was fattening, "Have some."

Not only that, it was a rather big piece. But, before waiting for an answer, Jiroh had put the spoon right to his mouth, one hand underneath the spoon so as to not drip onto the table. "Say 'ahh'." Blinking owlishly, which was _not_ something Atobe did, his mouth opened so that Jiroh could pop the spoon into it. He took the majority that was on the spoon as the orange-heard drew the utensil back. "Good, isn't it?"

Working the cold contrast to his coffee in his mouth, he found it was much too chocolately for him. However, it had nice texture and a strange sensation that have you craving more. "Yes, thank you, Akutagawa." Keigo smiled.

**III**

Jiroh tended to treat things like they were the most important thing in the world. It wasn't something he did consciously, it just happened. If there happened to be something he liked, he would cling to it and deem it worthy of its importance. Sleep, lately, had been his most important thing.

Of course, he was happy he got this new friend out of Atobe Keigo, but the other wasn't really all that great at comforting. Sure, he made him smile and laugh and feel all cheery, because that's what friends do, but he didn't block the demons of his grandfather's death. And sleep did that.

He would sleep as long as he could, after dinner to as late into the next day as he could. His dreams would be filled with so many wonderful things, his head clear of any horrid events. But, mostly, in his dreams, his grandfather was still alive. In his dreams, he rarely saw the relative, but he knew, in that dream-fazed mind, that he grandfather was good and breathing. And that helped him. That saved him.

He knew he was probably excessively sleeping, but he didn't care. Whenever he had a rough day and wished so bad his grandfather was there, but then realized he would never see the man again, he slept. Jiroh could never cry, he hated crying, it always gave him a headache and made him feel weak. But, with sleep, he could get happiness and joy.

Jiroh had realized he was probably scaring his family with how much he locked himself in his room; however, he couldn't help it. To him, it was like losing his best friend. He didn't know how to cope. And it didn't help that the one person who offered to help console him knew nothing of this kind of pain.

Soon enough, he didn't see life as anything important, he didn't see day as something he should be happy with. Instead, he was more unhappy awake, but when he slept, he could always smile. He treated sleep like his sanctuary, always helping him like it was something that could cure a man of the most disasterous disease. It may not have been important to anyone else, but it was his main priority.

Eventually, he found himself sleeping through breaks at school, his friends not being able to make him happy or smile. He liked this different realm he went in, it made him seem stronger and it made him feel a hundred times better.

Gradually, the calls to Keigo slowed and the times out with his friends decreased, but no one seemed to notice, or care. Of course, he kept his grades up and did all he was supposed to when asked of him, so no one could really complain.

Except when one day, _his_ phone rang, which rarely happened, and he found it to be Atobe. He smiled slightly, picking out the scarce irritation in the voice, and they picked a place to go and a time. In exactly five minutes, he would be leaving this house to go to that park Keigo took him to a few weeks ago. Jiroh sincerely hoped he remembered where it was, sometimes he was bad with direction.

**IV**

Not being able to help himself, though, he left the house without a word, grabbed a coat on the way, and walked leisurely to the park. He took a few wrong turns and went to the wrong park once, so he was a few minutes later than he was supposed to be, but glad he left when he did. He spotted his wealthy friend seated on the same swing he was before, unmoving with legs crosses, staring straight back at him.

Normally, the expression Atobe wore with him was one of either stoic nature or slow acceptance. This time, however, the expression was complex, his eyes more narrowed than the last time he'd seen them, lips tighter, nose a little higher in the air. Cautiously, as he didn't know how to handle this change, he walked toward the vacant swing dangling next to his friend.

As he went to take a seat, he felt a hand wrap tightly around his wrist. He looked to his friend, frightened subtely, and Keigo stood up without a word. Jiroh's right wrist was captured by Keigo's left hand, both standing face to face, body turned to each other.

"What's _wrong_ with you?" The tone wasn't fierce, like Jiroh had been expecting for some reason. It was actually a little soft, concern peeking through, a hint of desperation, but mainly confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't called me in a week or so, that's a little bit strange. Plus, normally you're around the town and I bump into you more than once, but I haven't seen you at all. I ran into your friends once and they said you pretty much locked yourself away, or something relevant to that. So, are you going to tell me, what's going on inside that head of yours?"

It was probably the most words at a time Jiroh had ever heard come out of the other boy's mouth. "I just..." And, this time around, he had no idea what to say. The truth; even though he didn't understand it himself? A lie; to cover himself up, although he probably didn't need to? "I just wanted to be happy."

For a split second, Atobe looked taken aback, "How is hiding making you happy?"

"I'm _not_ hiding, anyone could find me," his voice dropped, "I just, I like to sleep. And it makes me happy, because my dreams always cheer me up. They're a lot better than actual life, and I get bored in school and at home, and in this town and everything, so sleep's like an adventure to me." He didn't know what kind of explanation he was sprouting, as he wasn't really paying attention to the actually words he was saying, just that he was saying them. Realization dimmed on him at the now-loose grip on his wrist and the blank expression on Keigo's face.

"You're hiding because you're afraid," the purple-haired male said with conclusion, "Simple as that."

"...I am?" Even though Jiroh had voiced it, he knew his friend could tell it was more directed toward himself than to Keigo. He thought about it, and didn't quite see how that worked, he didn't think he had been hiding. He didn't think he was a coward for finding solice in sleep. However, he figured his friend might explain it lately, and maybe he'd just have to trust Atobe on this one.

He looked up, never realizing he looked down, as Keigo started to talk, "C'mon," he noted the small, genuine smile on the others face and found himself grinning broadly, "I'll make you believe in this world instead of your crazy dreams."

**Endofchapter.**

**Author's Note:** that it. :)

**CHAPTER TEASER: **"Heart and Soul", the Paramount Short Subject **A Song Is Born**


End file.
